Merry Christmas, Hermione
by Jolie Marianne
Summary: 'Tis the season! Hermione doesn't want to be alone for Christmas, but she doesn't want to deal with anonymous love notes either. F/F slash and holiday WAFF (this is rare from me you lucky people).


Author's Note: Slashy slashy slash slash! Yep, this is two girls in a romantic relationship, so if that's not your cup of tea, that's what the "back" button is for. If you want to flame it, you can also explain why you went ahead and read it despite all these explicit warnings. All other flames will be used to make the Warm-And-Fluffy-Feelings atmosphere even warmer.

Merry Christmas, Hermione

She was cold. That was the main thought on Hermione's mind as she tossed and turned fruitlessly in her bedcovers on Christmas Eve. The house-elves hadn't been in to light the fire yet, and the sixth year dormitories were absolutely freezing. Sleep had evaded her ever since she had first put her head on the pillow, so there was nothing to take her mind off her chills, and the zillion little thoughts pinging around in her head prevented her from trying her normal methods of getting to sleep. A test after the holidays that she needed to study for. Her heated break-up with Ron, which brought to mind her earlier goodbye to Viktor. Her family. Her friends.

Or rather, her lack thereof.

Ron had gone home, supposedly to be with his parents and older brothers, but Hermione knew it was mostly an excuse to get away from her. Harry was spending the holidays with Sirius, who had finally got his name cleared. Harry would spend Christmas in the home he had never had. Hermione didn't begrudge him that. It seemed like everyone in the castle was spending Christmas with their family this year. Normally she would have welcomed the quiet; it meant she could study and be alone with her thoughts, uninterrupted.

But it also meant that she was alone.

Hermione stewed for hours, shivering against the cold brought in by the winter blizzard, trying to take her mind off everything by going over in her head the material that would be on the test two weeks after the holidays ended. She didn't realise how successful she had been until a small scuffling sound snapped her out of her reverie.

"Who's there?" she whispered.

There was a small squeak from the far end of the room. Hermione groped for her wand, and with a whispered, "_Lumos_," the figure of a house-elf was revealed by the fireplace at the far end of the dorm.

Hermione, not in the mood to say anything about elf rights, shrugged off an unnecessary apology from the elf and merely watched as he lit the fire with a poke of one long finger. He scurried back outside for a moment, then returned seconds later, dragging a large sack behind him, from which he deposited the presents that had not already been delivered via owl. Hermione stifled a giggle, imagining him as one of Santa's elves.

But soon the elf left, and Hermione was left alone again. After about half an hour, having resolved that she wasn't going to get any sleep, Hermione decided that she might as well open her presents.

__

Christmas is a time to celebrate with others. The thought flitted briefly across her mind, but Hermione resolutely shoved it away; there was no use in drowning in loneliness and wallowing in self-pity, after all. But the dorm did strike her as incredibly empty -- all the other girls in her year had gone home. _Well, so much the better. Nobody to complain that you woke them up_, Hermione thought, determined to make the best of her situation.

A large box of gingerbread men from Mrs. Weasley. A bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion from Viktor -- it was their private joke. A CD player, complete with Dido and Jewel CDs, from Harry, with a note that it had been enchanted to work at Hogwarts. A sketchbook and art pencils from her parents. Finally there was only one package left, a very small one that Hermione had decided to save for last. It was the only one that didn't have a tag, so she had hung on to the half-formed hope that it might contain a conciliatory present from Ron.

The silver wrapping came off to reveal a small box, like the ones that earrings come in when you buy them. Faintly disappointed, for Ron knew her ears weren't pierced, Hermione opened the box -- and gasped.

Inside was a tiny rose, no longer than her thumb, made entirely of glass. The petals were blue and the glass was sculpted with astonishing detail; there was a loop near the top and a long silver chain in the box. Intrigued, for Ron could never have afforded anything like this, Hermione slipped the rose onto the chain and fished around beneath the soft padding for a note. Surely nobody gave a gift this beautiful and didn't even disclose their name...

There it was: a little slip of folded parchment underneath the padding. Hermione flicked it open; the handwriting was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It read:

__

Dear Hermione,  
There are so many things I wish I could say to you in this letter, but I won't because you might hate me if I did. Let me just say now that I love you, and have ever since I first saw you. Meet me in the library before breakfast, and I can explain everything to you. I'll be waiting for you, Hermione... please don't disappoint me.

"Please don't disappoint me..." Hah. Hermione was rather disappointed herself. An anonymous love letter, probably from some moony-eyed boy. Well, she'd just have to go to the library and explain to him that she wasn't particularly interested in dealing with more boys at the moment, and especially not someone pretentious enough to expect her to rush down into the library and bury herself in his arms.

But somehow, despite the anticlimactic ending, Hermione still found sleep impossible the rest of the night.

*.*.*.*

When Hermione dragged herself out of bed later, it was with dark circles under her eyes and a surly temperament. "Merry Christmas," she muttered to herself; she was tired and annoyed and she really did _not _want to go down to the library and meet whatever ill-fated boy had sent her the rose and the note.

Nevertheless, she changed into her Hogwarts robes, yanked a brush through her hair a couple times, and made her way down to the library, shivering in the chilly corridors. With some surprise, Hermione noted that she was wearing the necklace with the rose on it. But before she had time to consider going back to her dormitory to take it off, she was outside the library doors, pausing with her hand on the doorknob.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione entered the library, steeling herself for the mushy romanticism of whatever boy had given her the rose.

There was no one there.

Hermione, deciding that he might be waiting in the shadows somewhere, stepped farther into the library, surprised at how different it was in the pre-dawn darkness. It was almost unsettling, and Hermione had to shake off lurking thoughts of monsters and stalkers. A low _thump_ sounded from her left, and Hermione whirled around, then relaxed.

"Oh, hi, Ginny. Have you, er, seen any boys waiting here?"

For some reason Ginny seemed to think this funny. She collapsed in laughter at the small table she was sitting at, and it took her half a minute to compose herself. Hermione had to admit that the suddenness of the question made it almost amusing.

"Sorry, that was... random. It's just that, well a boy sent me a gift and an anonymous love note, and told me to meet him in the library... as if he hadn't noticed all the boy problems I've been having lately..."

Ginny looked like she was going to start laughing again, but she controlled it. "Oh, no, Hermione, I'm sorry," she said. "You see... I sent you the rose." She immediately looked mortified and all but clapped a hand to her mouth.

Hermione blinked a couple times as she registered the fact that Ginny - a _girl_ - had sent Hermione a love note; meanwhile, Ginny, her cheeks flaming, stared at a scratch in the table she was sitting at as if it were the most fascinating thing on earth.

"Ginny - I -"

"I'm sorry," Ginny repeated, her voice close to breaking, still resolutely staring at her table. "I know we're both girls - and - and - you probably wouldn't like... wouldn't want..." She trailed off and looked up at Hermione. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Can - can we still be friends?"

Hermione strode over to the table and grasped the redhead by the shoulders; Ginny shivered at the tingles that coursed through her where Hermione's hands touched her. "Ginny," Hermione said firmly. "There is only one thing I could possibly be mad at you about." The other girl flinched. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Hermione asked, placing two fingers under Ginny's chin and lifting her head up so she was staring Hermione in the eye. Now Hermione could see the tears welling in her friend's eyes, the way her lips were quivering, as though she was on the verge of crying. At these words Ginny let out an almighty sob and buried her head in Hermione's shoulder.

"You - you're not angry? You don't hate me?" Ginny sniffled.

"Of course not!" Hermione cried, holding her friend tight and patting her gently on the back. "Of course not," she repeated, more softly. They just sat there like that for a few minutes, enjoying the embrace, before Ginny pulled away.

"We really should go to breakfast now," she said, her voice half-relieved and half-sheepish.

"Not so fast," Hermione answered, "I still have a few questions. Why on earth did you save up all the money it must have taken just to get this -" She held up the glass rose - "for me? And you didn't answer my other question. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Well..." Ginny began, "I didn't even really realise I felt like this until last year, and by then of course you were dating Ron, so I thought you were straight and you didn't want anything to do with other girls, not in _that _way at least... and then the two of you broke up this year and you talked to me about it a lot, and you said that you'd never really _clicked_ with any of the boys you'd dated, that you couldn't see yourself falling in love with any of them... and that was when I started to hope again, because that's what I'd felt like all my life. So I decided, when everyone else went home, that you didn't really deserve to be all alone this Christmas and that I'd just muster up my courage and tell you."

"And the rose?" Hermione prodded.

"Oh, _that_." Ginny giggled. "It was actually a birthday present one of my friends gave me a long time ago. I always thought it was beautiful, but it really wasn't my style... it fits you a lot better, I think."

"It's beautiful. I love it."

"That's good, because I love you." Ginny felt her heart speed up as she finally said it - and on impulse, she leaned up and kissed Hermione full on the mouth.

Hermione was too shocked to react for a moment, but soon she relaxed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around the other girl, enjoying the sensation. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before, and it felt _right_ - like a lefty who's been forced to write with her right hand all her life finally using the other hand. It was the _click_ she'd confided to Ginny that was missing in all her other relationships - and even if it wasn't true love, it felt wonderful.

Ginny, for her part, was in heaven. This was what she had been dreaming of for so long, and it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hermione's mouth was warm and sweet, and electric tingles ran down her spine where Hermione's hands touched her. Hesitantly, Ginny opened her mouth and ran her tongue along her friend's lips; Hermione responded, opening her own lips very slightly as her fingers dug into Ginny's back. It would be so easy to lose herself in the sensation…

__

Bang. The library door flew open and a familiar voice shouted, "_Ginny!_ There you are! We've been looking all - oh."

Another voice, almost identical, added in tones of high astonishment, "_Hermione_? Is that you?"

The two girls sprang apart, guilty blushes staining their cheeks. Fred and George stood in the doorway, their faces already plastered with identical malicious grins.

"Gosh, Gin," Fred cackled, "do hope we haven't interrupted anything…"

"Can't wait till Mum hears about this one - and _Ron_," George smirked.

"Why, you two… you're not telling _anyone_ about this, you hear?" Ginny, her face livid, was stomping in between tables and knocking over chairs on her way to the door, and just before she reached them, the twins bolted and ran, Ginny chasing after them with shrieks of fury. Hermione watched all this in some amazement, then decided there was nothing else for it and sprinted after them through the chilly corridors. Finally she caught up with Ginny, who was panting and clutching a stitch in her side down the Charms corridor.

"Where are the twins?" Hermione gasped, breathless after her run.

"I lost them," Ginny wheezed. "Probably back at Gryffindor tower already. But they won't tell anyone," she assured Hermione, her face splitting into an evil grin that made Hermione wonder just how much Ginny was actually like her brothers. "They may be able to outrun me and they may be able to out-prank me, but I'm better at Potions than they are. And unless they want me to slip a truth potion in their pumpkin juice and make them admit that _they_ were the ones who put the bleach in McGonagall's shampoo, they're going to keep their mouths shut."

Hermione giggled, then asked, "So, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"I think we were here," whispered Ginny, and kissed her again, harder this time, more confidently. Her fingers were buried in Hermione's hair, tangled in the pendant's chain, and both of them were using their tongues this time.

Finally coming up for air, Ginny tried to unwind her arms from around Hermione's neck, but her hand snagged on the fine silver chain and it dug rather painfully into her neck.

"Sorry," Ginny whispered.

"No, I'm sorry," said Hermione, fingering the chain and the rose that dangled on the end of it. "I should have got you a present, Ginny, I feel so guilty now."

The redhead smiled. "You don't need to. Just having you is enough for me." She kissed her friend again, just a quick peck this time.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."


End file.
